


Hot and Bothered

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: (and then it's used sexually whoops), (but not a huge one), (i mean it's technically canon on Will's side of the spectrum...), Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Cop!Will Graham, Cunnilingus, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Food Sex, Ice Cream, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Peeping, Seduction, Southern accents, Table Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, Young Love, Young Will Graham, aka Will has a huge accent and it's distracting, awkward sexually charged dinners, changing in front of windows, licking spoons and being perverse lil shits, more like young lust ya feel?, playing footsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-07 15:10:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18413180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: (Strong sexual content warning) One hot summer in Louisiana, Abigail goes to spend the week with her grandparents. During her time there, a certain cop her grandma refers to as "that Graham boy" catches her interest. (Aka an AU where Abigail’s dad isn’t an asshole/she has a normal and happy childhood, Will is fresh out of the academy, and she and Will are only six years apart in age).





	1. Southern Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

> A friend requested I re-upload this, so here we are! This is a two-part fic based on the hilarious back-and-forth of lorelais and voidsmoocher on Tumblr. I mean, the entire conversation is gold. I have it saved on my computer, and referenced it throughout. Needless to say, this is dedicated to them since they allowed/encouraged me to write this. Enjoy!

“Hello? Grandma Blanche, Grandpa George? I’m here!”

  
Pushing her way through the entryway (nobody in this neighborhood believed in locking their doors), Abigail set down her bags and headed toward the kitchen. She could hear voices and the sound of clanging pots.

“…I _told_ you to check out this pilot light – I don’t want to have to ask that poor Graham boy again! He’s had to fix more than enough of your – oh! Hiya, dumplin’!” Waving to Abigail with a stirring spoon, Blanche quickly set it down and came rushing over with outstretched arms. Before the girl could properly respond, she was enveloped in her grandmother’s fierce embrace.

Abigail gave a choking laugh against the woman’s floral-printed dress. “Grandma…too _tight.”_

“Oh, come now, sugar, everyone needs a good ol' squeeze!” Passing her off to hug her grandfather, she asked, “How was your flight? And how’s that boy a’ mine?”

“Good and great,” Abigail said. “Dad’s going to take me out hunting sometime.”

George’s eyes lit up, but Blanche made a face. “Lansakes, I wish that boy would stop shootin’ up animals! He’s going to hurt himself!”

“Blanche, he’s 48 years old.”

She waved a dismissive hand at her husband. “Nonsense! He’s still our boy! And if God has anything to say about it, I’m sure he’s just as klutzy as the day he was born!”

When Abigail exchanged looks with George, she stifled a laugh. As a baby, Garrett Jacob Hobbs had fallen out of his crib, and Blanche hadn’t stopped talking about it ever since. In fact, many spills and tumbles had chronicled the man’s happy childhood. Blanche always claimed that the emergency squad knew him on a first name basis.

“Why don’t you let me help you with your stuff there, honey?” George offered. “After that, you can go outside and read a little. It’s a good day for that, I think.”

Abigail smiled. “No thanks, grandpa, I can do it myself. But I think I’ll take your suggestion under advisement.”

After unloading her belongings, Abigail changed into a swimsuit (it was pretty damn hot that day), grabbed her copy of Flannery O’Connor's _The Complete Stories,_ and headed down into her grandparents’ backyard. Despite the privacy of the fenced-in lawn, she could hear a bustle of activity: children laughing and screaming from down the street, an ice cream truck somewhere off in the distance (perhaps that was responsible for the children’s glee?), and from next door, fussing and cursing as someone (that “Graham boy”?) tinkered with tools in their yard.

Abigail hadn’t quite reached her designated reading tree yet, so she decided to snoop. Lifting up onto her tiptoes, she looked over the fence and spotted a hunkered over, disgruntled young man swearing and muttering as he messed with a greased-up boat motor.

“Are you okay over there?”

The man dropped his wrench, then gave a fierce, “OW!” as Abigail clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. He scowled and grudgingly flexed his hand.

Still trying not to laugh, she asked, “Do you need any help?”

“No, uh…thank you.” Squinting up at her through the assaulting sunlight, he shielded his eyes. “What are you doing looking over a neighbor’s fence like that? Didn’t your folks ever tell you that’s not very polite?”

A smirk stretched Abigail’s lips and she peered down at him, taking note of the mixture of oil and sweat streaked across his chest. “Hasn’t anyone ever told _you_ that it’s not wise for a girl to talk to strangers?”

The man chuckled. “Well I’m a cop, so I think you’re safe. For now.” He flashed her a grin and mopped at his brow, only to wipe grease across his skin in the process.

Abigail stifled a laugh. He was boyishly handsome, and the southern lilt to his voice made her shiver despite the thick, sweltering heat.

“D’you got a name?”

“Oh, um…” Abigail blinked, flustered when she realized she’d been gawking, and quite openly, too. In a rush, she spit out, “Abigail – I’m Blanche’s granddaughter.”

He smiled. “Well, ‘Abigail-I’m-Blanche’s-granddaughter,’ it’s nice to meet you. I’m Will, but that’s Officer Graham to you.” He winked and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “That grandma a’yours makes _the_ best pecan pie in town.” When Abigail laughed, he asked, “Something funny about the way I say 'pecan'?”

“Why no, sir…it’s just, do cops normally strut around half-naked in their backyard?”

“They do when they don’t know there’s a peeping tom next door.” He looked her over. “Do girls usually read in their backyard wearing a swimsuit?”

“They do when they don’t know there’s a half-naked, alleged cop next door.”

“Alleged?”

“Anyone can say they’re an officer,” Abigail said. “I’m going to need some proof.”

“Well now, I can show you the official frisking routine, if you feel so inclined.”

“I think a badge will suffice, sir.”

Will set down his wrench. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ – not unless you intend to invite me over for dinner.”

“Are you flirting with me, Officer Graham? You don’t even know how old I am.”

“Sure I do. Blanche and George brag about you all the time, Little Miss Top of Her Class.”

Abigail chewed her lip, her calves beginning to cramp up from remaining on her tiptoes. Shifting a bit, she said, “About that badge…”

“You just wait right here, little lady.” Dusting off his hands on his shorts, Will rose and headed for the front of his house.

Not meaning to stare – okay, so maybe she did – Abigail dropped her gaze toward the curve of his ass and gripped tightly at the fence. Jesus, what was _wrong_ with her? It’s not like she’d never seen a man before… A very good-looking, 20-something-year-old cop man with an ass of the gods. Okay, that was _definitely_ enough cheesy romance novels for her…

Will opened the door then, and instantly she heard the sound of yapping dogs. She craned her head, attempting to see just how many he had, but he’d already disappeared inside.

When Will finally came back out, he had his badge in hand, holding it up by his grease-stained cheek with a grin. “This proof enough for you, Miss Abigail?”

She pursed her mouth, reaching over the fence to touch the badge (and also coincidentally touching his hand). With the musk of his sweat and the blinding charm of his smile, Abigail’s cheeks reddened as her eyes darted in between his strong, weathered hands, and – _God,_ there was a huge bulge in his ridiculously short shorts. Nope, she wasn’t looking there at all, not a chance.

“I’ll have to take a further look for myself.” _At the badge,_ her mind screamed.

Will arched a brow. “Could you even tell if it was a fake?”

“Why, are you worried?” She held the badge directly in front of her (and also using it as an excuse to observe his tightly cinched middle). “Well…” She licked her lips, not having realized just how _dry_ her mouth had gotten. “It looks official from here, Officer.”

“I can assure you, it ‘looks official’ from any angle.”

The scrape of the back door opening cut across the yard, and Blanche called, “Abigail! It’s time for dinner!”

Abigail and Will both jumped, not having realized just how close they’d been to one another.

“Better not keep her waiting,” Will advised. “She might’ve made one of her world class pies for supper.” An awkward pause followed, then he said, “I, uh…guess I’ll be seeing you around, Abigail.”

She nodded. “Looks that way, Officer Graham.”

“Abigail!”

“Coming!” Sparing Will one last glance, Abigail raced up toward the front of the house and found her grandparents waiting for her in the foyer.

“Were you talking to Officer Graham?” George asked. “He’s a real nice boy.”

Abigail nodded, now moving to help Blanche with the dinner plates.

“Oh goodness, it’s been ages since we’ve had him here! We should invite him over for dinner sometime,” Blanche said. “He’s such a sweet young man. He fixed our shower, you know.”

Abigail hoped to God that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “He’s, um… Yeah, I guess that would be okay. He was asking about the book I’m reading,” she lied.

“Oh, that reminds me, I never returned him that book I borrowed,” George drawled. “You know the one, don’tcha, honey? The murder mystery with the boats?”

“Sure, I think it’s on our bookshelf,” Blanche agreed. “I’ll go check after dinner.”

Relieved that her attraction had more or less gone unnoticed, Abigail joined her grandparents at the table and prepared to eat.

 

* * *

 

After dinner, Abigail found herself upstairs in her appointed bedroom. She could hear faint strains of folk music coming from across the way, so she peered out her window, feeling her heart leap into her throat when she realized Will’s bedroom was _directly_ across from hers. While he performed pull-ups on the bar over his door, one of his smaller dogs watched him attentively as his muscles flexed and strained. Abigail was watching him pretty attentively, too.

Breaking away with embarrassment, Abigail pulled out her nightgown and began to change (and maybe, possibly, most _definitely_ left her curtains open so he could watch her disrobe).

The next few days were a complete thrill. Abigail went swimming quite a bit, which required extra showers and extra changing in front of her window, and Will seemed to be caught up in a vigorous workout regimen. They never made eye contact, but Abigail felt that he had to have seen her. She’d put on enough of a show that he’d damn well _better_ have seen her, lest some pervy neighborhood boy get an unanticipated eyeful.

With her flip-flops under one arm and her towel in hand, Abigail padded down toward the pool for the umpteenth time that week. Though what she saw made her stop dead in her tracks. There, in the water, Will was performing lap after perfectly executed lap, never once faltering in stride or style as he moved from one end of the pool to the other. Abigail let the gate swing behind her with a less than gentle clang.

Finally halting his exercise, Will looked up at her with a sheepish grin. “Well hey there, Abigail. Were you planning on using this?”

“Yeah, actually, I was.”

He chuckled, now wading over toward her end of the pool. “There’s plenty of room in here for the two of us, you know. You can get in if you want.”

Abigail raised a skeptical brow. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

“Well, there’s nothing in Louisiana law forbidding people of the opposite sex from sharing a pool. Believe me, I would know.”

Abigail finally allowed a smile to touch her lips, but before she could think to affirm or deny his request, Blanche appeared out on the back porch.

“Well, I’ll be!” Beaming brightly, she gave them a chipper wave. “Abigail, you didn’t tell me we had company! I’ll go get you two some lemonade.”

“Oh no, grandma, you don’t have t… Um…” She sighed, realizing that Blanche had already bustled off indoors. “Well, I hope you’re thirsty.”

“I’m getting there,” Will said, giving Abigail a discreet once-over. With her hands on her hips, she was easily flaunting her slender figure, all of which had been on prominent display all week.

Blanche returned to them then, chattering as she set a tray down onto the poolside table. “William here is quite the handyman,” she said, leaning over to pinch his cheek.

Will twisted away in embarrassment, and Abigail bit her lip to hide her laughter.

“I do nothing special, ma’am,” he assured her.

“Nonsense! You’ve fixed my shower, stopped up our leaky faucet, and given us a working boat motor! You kids these days are just so modest.” Clicking her tongue, she handed Will a glass as he pulled himself out of the pool. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

“Me? Well, I’d be much obliged, Miss Blanche.” Sending Abigail a sly little smirk, he added, “Should I bring anything? A dessert, maybe?”

“Oh, shucks, honey, all we need is your charming company!” Glancing at her watch, she added, “I’d better go check on the pot roast. It was so lovely to see you again, William!”

After Blanche had bustled off, Abigail could no longer hold off her bright grin. “She calls you William? That either means she really likes you, or she’s intentionally making your life a living hell.”

Will breathed a laugh. “Believe me, darlin’, my full name isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever been called in life.”

He grinned at her and Abigail reached for her own glass, trying to mask the slight flush in her cheeks. She’d never admit it, but the whole “William” exchange had been rather cute. “You know, I…”

_Splash!_

Abigail jerked, stunned, before shielding her face from the onslaught of water Will kept tossing her way. “Stop that!” she shrieked. Will chuckled and continued to splash her. “What are you,  _two?_   I said stop it!”

Despite Abigail’s attempts at fierce sternness, she was giggling. Gone was the uptight demeanor of moments before, and in an instant of determination, she dove into the pool and surfaced in time to nail Will with a wave of her own.

He laughed – actually full-on _laughed_ – and Abigail’s heart leapt at how serene and happy he looked when he was so openly relaxed. Unfortunately, her distraction allowed him the upper hand, and they were once again drenching each other with splashing waves, their laughter filling the backyard as they play-fought in the deep end.

At this distance, they were able to get a good look at one another. With her eyes bright and skin flushed, Abigail’s freckles became more pronounced and Will found himself staring – no, he would deny that and call it _mere observation_ – and as she wrestled with him for control, he recalled how he hadn’t been able to see her beauty marks when she’d stood naked in front of her window. Though small, they dusted various curves on her skin like meteor showers, and Will wondered what it would be like to touch them – to kiss and stroke and _lick_ her skin as she laid gasping beneath him.

“Will?”

He jerked, blinking up at her guiltily. Confusion colored his face when Abigail turned and looked at him over her shoulder.

“My straps got all loose,” she said. “Can you come tie them back up for me?”

Wordlessly, Will closed the distance between them and began re-tying her (slightly) loosened straps.

With his warm breath on her neck and his strong, sturdy fingers brushing along her skin, Abigail bit her lip and fought against the urge to cup him between the legs. She could do it, couldn’t she? Just reach back behind her, lift up her palm and…

“That tight enough for you, darlin’?”

Abigail jerked, her body tensing as she felt the heat of his mouth at her ear. Nodding dumbly, she turned her head to meet with his eyes, but that’s when the back door opened again.

“William!”

The two jumped, immediately separating like a pair of guilty teenagers.

“Uh…yes, ma’am?”

“Supper’s gonna be done in about 15 to 20 minutes. Why don’t you run on home and get cleaned up?”

“Sure thing, ma’am, I’m just going to finish up a couple laps first.”

Blanche returned inside, and Will stayed true to his word and resumed swimming in silence. Or at least, he did until he called over, “How well can you do the breast stroke, Abigail?”

She blinked up at him in dazed alarm. “I learned it in P.E., but…I forgot how to do it.”

_Smooth lie._

“Would you like me to refresh your memory?” Will laughed at her reproachful expression, still continuing to swim from one end of the pool to the other. “I don’t mean any offense,” he quickly assured her. “It’s just that you’ve been treading water for the past 10 minutes now, and I wanna make sure you never drown while I’m not here.”

_Even smoother lie._

Swimming over to her position, Will instructed, “Here, open your legs.” When Abigail balked, he quickly explained, “It’s the stance… Just lift yourself up like this.” His hand pressed into her stomach and elevated her lower body, her frame trembling from the sensation of him melding against her, all taught and wet with corded muscle. With his hands sliding toward her wrists, Will began to move her arms in the proper outward motion. She swore she felt his thumbs brush almost _tenderly_ along her skin, and she shivered, practically melting into his touch. He remained draped over her as he encouraged each movement.

Now sliding himself between her legs (but not too far, lest he become wholly aroused), Will continued to guide her arms in the proper motion, all the while pausing to innocently touch and support various points on her body. Abigail was so soft and smooth beneath his trembling fingers. Between her neck and shoulders was a small patch of freckles, and Will fought against the urge to press a series of deep, open-mouthed kisses against her skin. _Jesus._ He was an officer of the law, not some perverse reprobate.

“I…should probably get back home,” Will finally stammered.

Almost imperceptibly, Abigail tightened her legs around his hips. He took a sharp intake of breath and she smiled, still treading as she asked, “Are you _sure,_ Officer Graham? I’m learning so much from you…”

“Your grandma’s a punctual woman,” he said, attempting to keep his tone calm and even. “I’ve gotta take care of a few things before dinner.”

Unbidden, a warm, pleasurable heat filled her at the thought of just what those “few things” might entail. Innocently, she undulated her hips, pretending to kick her legs so that her ass rolled along his front. A soft, sorry sound caught in Will’s throat, and he broke away before staggering toward the pool ladder.

“What’s your hurry?”

“I _told_ you, I need to get home,” Will said, careful to keep his back facing her. It would be difficult to explain away the painful, throbbing reminder of his transgression. “Tell your grandma I’ll see you all in about 15 minutes.”

Abigail watched him practically tear the gate off its hinges, a sense of girlish glee filling her when she recalled his stifled gasp. It made her want to know what _other_ sounds he was capable of – sounds she could evoke when they were in a more private setting.

Thoroughly pleased with herself, Abigail got out of the pool, dried off, and went upstairs to shower and change. She disrobed in front of the window, as usual (though she maybe, most  _definitely_ cupped herself in a few places before winding a towel around her body).

 

* * *

 

After bathing and blow-drying her hair, Abigail found herself agonizing over what to wear to dinner. She wanted to be alluring, but not _too_ alluring since that might scream desperation. Perhaps no bra? Okay, so maybe that was a _little_ desperate…

Walking past her window with her change of underwear, Abigail came to an abrupt halt when several fierce, frantic jerking movements caught her eye. She pin-wheeled about and gawped, her mouth falling open as she struggled to process what she was seeing: Will, with his swimming trunks around his ankles, his teeth clenched and his hand moving briskly over … _oh._

Barely able to breathe, Abigail clutched her panties as Will finished himself off. His chest heaved and his cock jerked in his hand, and just as he came – oh, _God_ – his eyes met with hers from across the way, his body seeming to tremor and convulse even harder from the visual stimulation.

 _Ohgodohgodohgodohgod,_ he’d seen!

With a panicked squeak, Abigail finally broke away from the sight and went bolting for her bathroom.

Fuck it – she was definitely _not_ wearing a bra that evening.


	2. Southern Charm

“Abigail! William’s here!”

“Shit!” Tripping over her own two feet, Abigail attempted to put on a necklace, but the clasp broke and she went flailing against the doorframe. “Shit, shit, _shit!”_

Well, so much for being smooth about all of this…

“Abigail? Are you alright?”

“Yes, grandma!”

With a brief scan of her reflection, Abigail passed a hand through her hair, took a deep breath, then plastered on a bright smile as she headed for the stairs. 

By the front door, Will was talking politely with her grandparents. He was wearing a blue button-down gingham with tailored slacks, and _Jesus,_ he really seemed to have put a lot of effort into his appearance. The thought made her lift her chin and swing her hips proudly as she moved. If he dressed this way for her, why not let him think he had to work for it? 

“There you are, dumplin’! I was beginning to get worried!”

Abigail faltered. Okay, well so much for _that_ idea. She met with Will’s warm, friendly gaze, but quickly looked back to Blanche and George. “Stop teasing me, grandma. Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?” 

“Nothing but your sweet ol’ self! C’mon, you two, everything’s on the table.” 

George rubbed his hands together (and consequently led the way). His wife followed, and then Abigail and Will lingered a moment in the foyer before quickly trailing after. Will’s hand lightly touched the small of her back and Abigail flushed, thinking of just what he’d been doing with that hand, and _where._  

Said hands moved to pull out a chair for Blanche, and the older woman cooed and patted Will’s cheek. “Ain’t you just as sweet as can be?”

“Stop making me look bad – I have to live with her,” George admonished, though he was grinning as he helped Abigail into her own chair. “I suppose I might as well lead by this young man’s example.” 

“You most certainly should,” Blanche agreed. “Shame on you for making me pull out my own chair for the past 42 years!” 

As the couple teased and vexed one another, Abigail spared Will a furtive glance from across the table. He met her gaze and offered one of his trademark smiles – geez louise, _abort, abort!_ – before Abigail quickly looked down at her plate. 

“How long have you been on the force, William?”

Abigail looked back up again, staring intently as Will buttered a roll. 

“I’d been in the Academy for a while, but I finally got out and joined the squad last June.”

“Well, I’ll be! A full year!” With a coy little salute, she said, “We thank you for your services, young man. I know _I_ certainly feel safer with you roaming the streets!”

George snorted, but not unkindly. “Did I ever tell you I wanted to join the force?” When Will shook his head, he continued, “I’ll tell you what, I had every intention of becoming an officer of the law, but _this_ lil’ beauty ruined everything.” 

Blanche waved a hand. “I did no such thing – unless, of course, you mean it was because of my devastating good looks.” 

Using her grandparents’ distraction to her advantage, Abigail busied her hands with cutting into the pot roast, and her right foot lifted in order to brush over Will’s under the table. He looked up at her, startled, before offering George a strained smile when the conversation steered back toward himself. 

“And what do you think, Officer Graham?”

“About…?”

“Tax reform, of course! I’ll tell you one thing, those gutless lil’-”

“George! How many times have I told you not to discuss politics at the table? It gives me indigestion!”

Trying not to laugh, Abigail met Will’s gaze and slid her foot further along his ankle and shin, slipping beneath his trouser leg in order to brush against bare skin.

Will swallowed, his throat clearing as he shifted in his seat. He fumbled for his fork, bumped it, then made a self-deprecating remark when it fell onto the floor. 

“Pardon me, ma’am,” Will apologized. “Lemme get that.”

Before anyone could argue, he was already on the floor under the table. Biting her lip, Abigail parted her legs to give him a generous view of what was underneath her skirt – or rather, what  _wasn’t._ In addition to her bra, she’d boldly decided to forego underwear as well. 

A loud bump of Will’s head striking the table rattled the dishes, then he gave a suppressed shout as Abigail covered her mouth. 

“Oh…oh my, are you alright, sugar?” Blanche asked.

Will re-emerged then, red-faced and eyes downcast as he set his fork onto the table. Abigail remained smug as she crossed her legs. 

“Anyway, as I was saying…tax reform-” 

“Oh no, you don’t!”

As the husband and wife bickered, Will looked to Abigail and rolled up his sleeves around his strong, well-defined biceps. The memory of his dominant arm jerking in a certain _R-rated activity_ made her flush, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she crossed her legs even tighter. Okay, so maybe she should’ve worn panties, after all… 

“What are your plans for the upcoming semester, dumplin’?”

Looking abruptly toward Blanche, Abigail tried to ignore the deep, intense way Will was looking at her as she shifted in her seat. “I, um…don’t really know just yet. Like last year, I’m still undecided on my focus, but I’m leaning toward art or English.” She glanced at Will again, noting the way his lips wrapped around his fork as he maintained eye contact. Alright. This was fine.  _Everything_ was fine. If he thought he could regain the upper hand, he had another think coming. 

Uncrossing her legs, Abigail feigned a stretch with a soft, sensual sigh, then gently ran her fingers along her neck. The stance allowed her braless breasts to push forward and she looked up at him, eyes bright and intent as she asked, “Could you pass me the meat, please?” 

There was a slight twitch in Will’s cheek, yet he obeyed and reached for the bowl filled with strips of cured ham. Passing it toward her, he looked at her beneath his dark lashes as she accepted the bowl, her finger stroking along his knuckles beneath the dish. 

Abigail smiled demurely and lowered her gaze. “Thank you, Officer Graham.” Reaching for her drink, she took a sip and nudged his foot beneath the table. He looked up in time to see her licking the condensation from her lips. 

This teasing would continue for at least twenty minutes (though it felt far _longer_ thanks to the growing need) until George sat back with a sigh. “Well, kids,” he drawled, “it’s been real fun, but I think Blanche and I are gonna head on up to bed. Would it be too much to ask if you’d both do the dishes?” 

“That’s right,” Blanche chirped. “The old folks cooked, so now the youngin’s get to clean.” 

Will tried his best not to brighten. “Of course, ma’am,” he agreed. “Whatever you need.” 

“Oh, just listen to you! Such a charmer!” Rising from the table, she added, “Feel free to help yourself to some ice cream as a reward. Goodnight, you two.”

“Goodnight, ma’am.” Will followed after them with his eyes until they were out of sight. Now looking to Abigail with a bright, mischievous smile, he asked, “Should I wash or dry? You’re  _already_ wet, so I figured you might want a change of pace.” 

Abigail gasped, though without true offense. “Where’s your southern charm _now,_ Officer Graham? For a minute there, all those ‘yes, ma’ams’ and ‘no, ma’am’s’ sure had me fooled.” 

“Oh, c’mon. If you hadn’t gone without panties, I never would’ve known.” 

Taking Blanche’s pink rubber gloves from off the counter, Abigail thrust them against his chest with a pleased little smirk. “If you’re washing, you’re going to need these. Heaven forbid you get those ‘working man’s hands’ all pruney.” 

Will breathed a soft laugh. “No thank you, darlin’. I think I can withstand a little bit of water.”

Rolling his sleeves up further along his whipcord arms, he flashed her an impish smile as he headed for the sink. He busied himself with filling the basin, his hands alternating in between adding dishes and soap to the water. 

Abigail leaned against the counter, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched. Although subtle, the first few buttons of his shirt had miraculously been unfastened, and she found herself digging her nails into her arms to keep from springing at him from across the room. “Not a first-timer, are you?” 

“I’m not a ‘first-timer’ for a lot of things,” Will drawled. “What do you think I do over there all by myself? Call in the dish fairy?” 

 _‘I’ve certainly seen what you do ‘all by yourself,’’_ Abigail mentally observed. At this point, there was no sense in trying to maintain pure, wholesome thoughts.

“You gonna help?” Holding out a dripping dish, Will waited for Abigail to accept. When she took it between her hands, their fingers grazed like in the dining room and she flushed, ducking her eyes while grabbing a dish towel. Wordless and suddenly shy, Abigail finished drying the dish before fetching an apron. 

Will spared her a sidelong glance. Discreetly, he noted the way the apron covered her exposed midriff, and when she pulled her hair up into a ponytail, he could see her small patch of beauty marks. Subconsciously, he licked at once incisor. 

“Be careful with that.”

Jerking to attention, Will halted as Abigail came over and placed her hands over his.

“That’s a family heirloom,” she explained. “It’s seen at least five generations, so you need to take care when you wash it. Grandma showed me how to do it properly…like this.” Sliding her touch further along Will’s weather-beaten hands, Abigail slipped in between him and the sink and curled his fingers around the serving dish, feeling the tickle of his breath on her neck as she began to scrub. 

From this distance, Will could smell her without chlorine. Angling in toward her floral-scented hair, he closed his eyes and mimicked her movements. 

This would go on for a full minute before Will whispered, “I think it’s clean enough.” 

Abigail stiffened in embarrassment. “We could always get that ice cream,” she stammered. “Y-you know, um…the tub Grandma Blanche promised?” 

“Dessert’s definitely not a bad idea,” Will huskily agreed. He inched in closer toward her frame, ghosting his lips along the gentle curve of her neck. 

Abigail’s breath hitched and she dug her nails into his forearm. His soft groan caught against her ear and she shuddered, her backside pressing into his growing arousal in a vain attempt at steadying herself. 

With trembling hands, Will submerged another plate before upturning his palms and running his touch along her soft, welcoming arms. 

“A little eager to _search_ me, Officer Graham?” Abigail was surprised by the calm in her voice. 

A light laugh tickled her neck, and Will pressed a kiss behind her ear. “It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it.” With his hands stroking along her damp skin, Will ground his hardness against the curve of her rear. 

 _Nonono,_ Abigail’s mind screamed. She couldn’t let him win – this night was supposed to be about _him_ giving in to _her._ Twisting away with a sorry little noise, Abigail broke from his arms and moved for the dish towel. Will sagged against the counter with visible difficulty. 

“Forgot the serving spoons,” she lied, now dumping a few (clean) dishes into the sink. “Can’t forget these, too.” 

Disgruntled, Will washed up the spoons before setting them onto the rack to dry. “Abigail…” 

She ignored him, feigning innocence as she opened the freezer. After pulling out the ice cream, she grabbed a clean spoon and had a seat on the counter, swinging her legs back and forth as she licked at the dessert. 

Will’s left eye twitched. Counting to ten, he released a breath as he attempted to calm a certain part of himself. “So you’re not even going to offer me a spoon?” 

Wrapping her lips around the silverware, Abigail’s eyes gleamed as she shrugged. “You didn’t ask.” 

“I’m asking now.” Plucking the spoon from her hand, Will dipped it into the tub and scooped out a bit of vanilla, his expression guarded as he moved between her legs to better accommodate himself. Almost mockingly, he lifted the spoon to her mouth. His free hand fell to her thigh, then innocently kneaded and rubbed at her skin. “Open up.” 

With a baited breath, Abigail trembled and further parted her thighs. Will’s raspy chuckle made her scowl. 

Idly playing with the hem of her skirt, he lowered his lips to her ear and purred, “Now would a gentleman such as myself ask a young woman to do _that?”_  

“I wasn’t aware you were a gentleman.” 

Will chuckled. “Oh, no?” He lifted his hand to her chin, gently tugging so that her mouth opened for the ice cream. 

Abigail took in the spoon with little provocation, her eyes meeting with his as she maybe, possibly, most _definitely_ sucked on the spoon for far longer than was necessary. When he withdrew the spoon, she paused long enough to lick the cream from her upper lip. 

Will’s eyes were dark and intent as he watched her. “Missed a spot,” he whispered. Brushing his thumb across her sticky lips, he lifted his hand to his mouth just as Abigail seized his wrist. Stunned, he watched as her lips wrapped around his thumb and _pulled,_ her tongue gliding along the skin as she sucked. He swallowed thickly. 

Unable to take it, Will yanked on her waist so that her thighs were forced to bracket his hips. A stifled gasp caught in Abigail’s throat and she quaked, feeling his arousal press into her naked heat. She felt so vulnerable like this: his thumb in her mouth, her legs spread and her pantyless crotch grinding into his bulge. A soft moan caught in her throat and she licked at his thumb. 

With his free hand gripping at the small of her back, Will lowered his mouth to the hollow of her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse as his tongue darted out against her skin. Abigail’s mouth went slack, and Will withdrew his thumb. As he burned a trail of kisses along her throat, he dipped his hand into the ice cream before withdrawing long enough to assess her smoldering gaze. 

“The ice cream’s that good, huh? I can think of something better…”

Abigail gripped his hips between her thighs. “I’ll bet the ice cream tastes sweeter.” 

Will chuckled. “Sweeter than me, little miss?” With the ice cream on his fingers, he smeared the dessert across the fullest part of her lips and challenged her with his eyes. Abigail made a sorry sound and then Will’s mouth was on hers, sucking the cream off her bottom lip before nipping it gently. “You were right,” he whispered, breath scorching her skin. “It _is_ sweeter.” 

In an instant, Abigail seized a fistful of his hair and tugged so that he was forced down to her level. “Fuck the ice cream,” she hissed. She knocked the tub to the floor. 

“It’s not ladylike to swear,” Will huskily said. 

Crashing her lips into his, Abigail pulled on his curls and darted her tongue into his mouth, tasting vanilla as his hands fumbled and found purchase on her waist. His cold hands felt electric against her bare skin, and as his fingers skated beneath the hem of her crop top, she lurched and gripped at him more tightly. 

“I’ve got you, darlin’,” he whispered against her lips, rearranging her more comfortably on the counter.

Abigail was filled with stinging heat at his accent, and she drew one of his hands to rest against her inner thigh. “Call me darlin’ again.” 

He obliged, his touch drifting beneath her skirt. “Darlin’,” he whispered, now tracing a finger along her soaking slit. “Sweetheart.” Pressing a kiss to her throat, he breached her heat and welcomed the rocking of her hips into his palm. _“Sugar.”_  

Abigail pressed her cheek to his and whimpered, her breathing labored as she nipped at his ear. “Please… _more,”_ she begged. 

Will tried every pet name his addled mind could think of – even the food ones, which normally made him gag – but somehow, calling her “peaches” made him see the appeal. She bit down on his shoulder and moaned softly. 

Fed up with the teasing, Will hefted Abigail into his arms and carried her toward the dining room, supporting her bottom as she not-so-innocently wrapped her legs around him. Each roll of her hips into his straining erection elicited a low growl from his throat. 

“Table. _Now,”_ he declared. It wasn’t a question, but a command. 

Allowing Will to lay her across the bare surface, Abigail felt her breath hitch as he hooked his fingers beneath her waistband. With trembling hands, she managed to unfasten the front of his shirt as he peeled her skirt from her body. She flushed all over at her sudden nudity, and she chewed her lip as he shrugged out of his garment. A threadbare undershirt clung to his frame and she made a soft, pleased little noise as he unfastened his belt. 

“Careful now,” he warned. “It’d be awful _rude_ to wake up your grandparents.” He paused to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Now pressing a finger to her lips, Will gave a soft little, “Shh,” before replacing his finger with his mouth. 

Abigail wrapped her arms around his neck and Will growled at her, pressing a finger inside her heat as she squeaked and bucked beneath him. 

“If I give you more, will you promise to be quiet?” 

Abigail whimpered, nodding as he pumped his finger briskly in between her slick walls. With a sly smile, Will added another digit and grazed his lips against her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered. 

Abigail bit into her lip and arced her waist, rolling her hips up into the assault between her thighs. Will’s thumb grazed her clit and she clawed at the table. When her back arched and her lips parted, Will clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent her from crying out. He circled her clit once, twice, and her knees jerked further apart as she groaned behind his hand. 

“That’s it, baby,” Will whispered, lowering his hand from her mouth and peeling her shirt back from her breasts. His cock twitched at the sight, and eagerly, he lowered his greedy mouth to wrap around one hard nipple. Abigail jerked and gnashed her teeth against her lip. 

“You like that, darlin’?” He moved his warm mouth to her other breast, humming around her stiff peak as he sucked. Abigail arched more impatiently, but before she could cry out, he slipped two fingers inside her mouth while his free hand pumped more aggressively between her legs. She whined around his fingers and he shuddered, grinding his hardness against the table for some much-needed relief. 

Abigail’s feet came up to perch on the edge of the table, assisting in her plight as her hips pumped and rolled into his hand. The wooden structure wobbled and she scratched at his shoulders, her noises vibrating around his fingers as he increased the speed of his thrusts. 

“Take it, babe,” he whispered. 

Abigail bit down on his fingers and he hissed, sending her a dark leer. “That wasn’t very nice,” he warned. Curling his fingers deeper inside her, he pressed, “You know what happens to naughty girls, right, sugar?” He added a third digit, stroking and prodding at her insides as she squirmed and scratched up his neck and shoulders. 

Abigail’s eyes flickered when he grazed her sweet spot. Oh…oh, _God._ Feeling her legs shake, she whined as Will slowed his harsh movements between her thighs. He grazed her sensitive bundle of nerves again, pulled out, then gruffly thrust back in. It all felt so good that Abigail was nearly on the verge of tears. She bit down on his fingers again in frustration, now sucking on them with a suggestive flair to get her point across. 

Will chuckled. With her wanton noises accenting her lascivious act, he leaned forward and whispered, “That won’t get you very far, little miss. You need to _ride_ _out_ your punishment.” He nipped at her neck and she dug her nails into his skin. 

Lolling her head to the side to better accommodate him, Abigail reached between them to rub her clit so she could finally fucking _come undone,_ but Will stopped her, putting his thumb back over her sensitive bud. She jerked sharply and he pressed his fingers deeper into her mouth, flicking his thumb across her clit over and over as he whispered, “C’mon, sweetheart.” 

She practically sobbed from the over-stimulation. 

“Come for me, baby. I know you can feel it… Abigail, _come.”_  

A sharp, unbridled cry caught in her throat, and then her thighs quivered as her cunt spasmed and released around his driving digits. The sight of her all flushed and spent had Will leaking prematurely, his eyes dark and dusky as she drifted down from her orgasm. Removing his fingers from her mouth, he gently brushed the hair back from her forehead. “That’s a good girl,” he purred. 

Abigail’s eyes gleamed as they drifted toward his sizable bulge. “Need some help there?” she asked. She was tired and shaky, but not tired enough to give up the chance for some payback. 

Before he could stop her, Abigail flipped Will onto the table, smirking with pride as she briskly pulled his pants down. He hissed at the sensation of fabric brushing over his swollen erection. 

Intrigued, Abigail got down on her knees and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to his tip.

Will let out a seething breath. With one hand wrapping around his shaft, she used her other to reach between her legs and cup herself, coating her excitement across her fingers before she smeared her come along Will’s arousal. Now wrapping her lips around his cock, Abigail sucked their mingled fluids into her mouth as he made a hitching, strained little noise. 

“Oh, God,” he breathed. “Oh Abby, just-”

“You need to be quiet.” 

Realizing that she was mocking him from earlier, Will gave a husky little laugh and combed his fingers through her locks. “You’re not being very fair…” 

Her eyes were dark as she said, “Well, seeing how I didn’t get very much ice cream…” and rose from off the floor to fetch the discarded tub. 

Will balked. “W-wait…” 

But it was too late. Abigail had already returned and was rubbing the melting vanilla around his cock, a smirk lifting her lips as he jerked from the cold sensation. “Shh,” she cooed. Now opening her hot mouth around him, she swirled her tongue along his tip, savoring the taste as he gasped and arched up into her touch. Impatient, she pushed his hips back down. He pounded his fist onto the table and yanked harshly on her hair. 

Abigail lifted her head long enough to snap, _“Quiet,”_ before taking him back into her mouth again. She grabbed a hold of his wrist to keep his hand still, her tongue teasing and swirling around his tip as she once more reached for the ice cream. Will gave an impatient snarl and she swatted his thigh. 

Now drizzling more vanilla along his length, Abigail took him in and swallowed around his hardness, his hips ratcheting as he squirmed and cursed under his breath. He tugged her hair more insistently with a breathy little _“please,”_ and then it was all over, his body convulsing as he shuddered and spilled into her mouth. 

Abigail withdrew with a pleased little look in her eyes. She wiped off her mouth and nodded to the ice cream, prodding him with an innocent little, “More?” 

In a rush of frustration, Will knocked the tub out of her hands. “I’ll clean it up later,” he hissed, now yanking her up so that they collapsed horizontally across the table. 

“It’s not very gentlemanly to make a mess,” Abigail chided. 

“I’m about to make an even _bigger_ mess.” 

His hands dug into her waist and she squeaked, feeling dizzy as he hoisted her up so that she was straddling his face. Will’s hot mouth opened against her inner thigh and she jerked, tugging on his curls until he buried his face into her slick heat. 

 _“Oh…”_ Toes curling, she gave a soft whine and began grinding into his assaulting tongue, her nails scratching up his neck and shoulders as he drove her closer and closer toward that blissful precipice. 

That was when they heard a noise from upstairs. 

In a panic, Will rolled upward and knocked Abigail to the side. Unfortunately, they didn’t _stop_ rolling, and with a cry, the two fell heavily off the table and onto the hardwood floor. 

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you don’t want more ice?”

“Goddammit, stop laughing, Abigail.” 

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “What? I’m genuinely concerned! I mean, it’s not every day your man sprains his wrist after eating you out on your grandparents’ table.” 

Will flexed his hand, looking down at his sling with a shy smile. “So I’m ‘your man’ now, am I?” 

“Don’t get smug. I kind of feel obligated now that you’ve got a hospital bill.”

“You _are_ my most expensive date,” he agreed.

With a laugh, Abigail leaned forward and fondly kissed the tip of his nose. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah?” With his non-injured hand falling to her waist, Will gently rubbed while suggesting, “No ice cream this time.” 

She grinned and curled into his side. “Deal.”


End file.
